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Friday, August 29

Recently, I received a really sweet message from one of you guys requesting another post! My evasiveness from the internet has apparently not gone unnoticed. So, let me provide you all with an explanation, (because excuses get you out of everything, right?)

I was among the graduates of the class of 2014 this year; finishing my high school academics a year early by normal standards. (Believe me when I say: that was a long road of blood, sweat, and tears.) I worked through the summer then, (because why would anyone take a break after all that?)- am now attending a community college (and am taking the max amount of credits and extra curricular classes possible). One of my teachers recently pulled me aside and in a disgruntled tone informed me that I was an overachiever. My response was basically, "I may be, but not by choice!" (Just a note, my parents don't stand over me with a book threatening to whack me with it if I don't study. I suppose it's just my perception of their expectations that drives me into such difficult situations.)
However, being previously home schooled, (which was by all means amazing), college is a completely new atmosphere for me. The first week I physically trembled throughout all my classes, and stuttered responses like a fool. In all honesty, I've always had such an adoration for college students that being around them, being ONE of them, was incredibly terrifying.
Looking back on that whole week now, I sort of want to do this:

I can now safely say that I've recovered from that awkwardness and now have more contacts on my phone then I've ever had in my life! It's the second week and I've already had some guy ask me out as well, (the way he did it was pretty adorable too, props for that! Though, I did end up saying no. Reasons? I'll disclose that in a later post.)
Though my expanding pool of friends is exciting, a vital flaw to this grand picture I'm painting is that the student body I have to choose from isn't terribly impressive. I generally look for people who have drive, academic interest, and passionate hobbies. In a college known for rape, theft, and violence, the campus and students have a whole different side to them. I've probably doubled my paranoia of the world in the last two weeks than I've ever harbored in my whole lifetime.

So, what does my life consist of now?

I cried for five minutes after seeing this.

Next year when I'm off to an actual university, I can only imagine this will be worse. Sleep is gold right now, I'm being serious about that. My day goes like this: I wake up at 5:50 AM, and generally have a full load until around 4. After that I have homework until 7-11 PM. No time for a social life outside of class! On the weekends? Homework.

Homework.

Homework...

It's not bad though. I'm actually loving my Biology and Psychology classes, (who would have guessed?). English (yes, my favorite subject is tainted) and History are a pretty hard to stay focused during. Mostly because the English is so basic I feel like rolling my eyes continuously, until I pass out and slam my head onto the table in sleep deprivation. (The teacher also is very monotonous, and derives joy from taking the magic out of writing.) My history teacher does a fair job at teaching, but when you're sitting there around 2:30 PM and knowing you have another hour to sit through...

It gets hard to focus.

I think the biggest aspect of my time at college though, has been my testimony. (For those who dislike religious topics, go ahead and skip to the point after the video.) I have felt the power of my Father in Heaven so many times since beginning school.

I've always struggled with getting high grades on tests/quizzes and generally would pass a class with an A because of hard work and writing skills. I prayed fervently in the past for help during those tests, but always felt like my father in heaven wasn't listening.

This viewpoint has completely changed on my part. I know now that he was there, and that I just didn't believe he would help me. This disbelief goes into a deep aspect of my personality, one which I initially didn't think was carrying over to play in the way I interacted with my father in heaven, but it was. I watched a video the first week of college, right before a big test. I was in tears, altogether having a solitary meltdown over the fear that I wouldn't be good enough to pass. That heavenly father would let my prayers go unanswered, because maybe he felt that way about me too. I began to think that maybe that I had always felt that way about my Heavenly Father. That he was just as disappointed in me, as I was in myself.

When I opened the video I wasn't expecting the message I received. To summarize a basic part of it, a former addict and repeated convict (now a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints) shared an experience he had in his earlier years. While serving sentence in prison, he offered up a prayer unto Heavenly Father with the belief that God was trying to help him. In this prayer, he expressed to God that he couldn't understand why he was trying to help him. He was an addict, alcoholic, and convict. Why would would anyone, especially God, want to help someone who hadn't tried to follow his commandments, who'd done so little to walk in the saviors shoes. The answer he received to this prayer, both touched my soul and opened my eyes. As this man spoke, the words he uttered felt as though they were for me.

"Mark, it's because I love you."

And I felt it.

That love he had for me, in that video, sitting there in tears. I knew he loved me, and that I had always refused to hear that. I got down on my knees after that and poured out my soul unto him. The following day I said at least seven prayers throughout school, and the next even more.

During the past weeks I've prayed constantly, both in my heart, and aloud.

I've received a near perfect score on every test and quiz I've taken thus far.

And I know, that wasn't me. Because in high school I relied on myself,

and struggled to the point of breaking.

Now, I almost look forward to tests.

Because I know he will be there right with me.

I hope this sort of gives you guys an idea of why I've been absent from my blog.

I'd also like to apologize for any confusing sentences, spelling errors, or just pointless off-topic-excursions. I generally edit my posts for a few days before publishing them, but today I thought I'd make an exception. (In other words, I have no idea what goodies are hidden inside this for you to trod into.)

Anyways, I love you all! Thank you so much for the support and kind words, I really do treasure them.

Thursday, August 7

There are times when my fingers hit the page, and I feel I am no longer human;
when the chaos within my mind focuses into to a steady stream of words imbued with the power to change me. To shape me.
It's as though I transcend from my body and into another state of consciousness. Where another spirit gently folds over me; taking my essence and in those moments--or minutes, electrifying the very blood within my veins.
The words are my kryptonite and my solace; and It's within them that I find I am truly in love, body and soul. I cannot be without them, no matter the hour; and it is because of this that I fear them, at times even hate them. Words. Because how can you fully love the one thing that has implicit control over you? I bend to it's whims, not them to me. I cannot call to my fingertips the conscience that breathes life into my thoughts without this unseen power. At it's touch, I'm transformed into an undefinable zenith. As though some presence has passed into me, and shown me how it feels to be truly alive. It's addictive, enrapturing.
Without it, I feel alone. I feel too human, too touchable and fragile. The strength within me dwindles into nothing more than a glowing memory. A memory I find myself stretching for everyday of my life. Every night, every morning. I crave that power, so much so that I can almost touch the sickness which cleaves to my heart.
The sickness for words, for feeling, for life.
The power to wield that force. One that I still cannot comprehend.

Because when I write, it is more than just me at a keyboard. It's the universe converging within the pandemonium of my mind, and turning it into something beautiful.

When I write, it's because the feelings possessing my soul are too much too bare. I string them against the paper, letting them leech themselves away from my being.

When I write,
It's because I love the feel of words coursing through my heart. Pumping awake my brain, and bringing life once again to my crippled eyes. I see things differently through the words, as though they are colored glass built by the possibilities of limitless imagination. I look through them and see a different world. I look through those words, and I know this is where I belong.

I belong within this reality, a timeless capsule of artistry and transcendence.